


Vociferate

by Ferith12



Category: DCU
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Gen, Vague, so very very vague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 21:13:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6536524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferith12/pseuds/Ferith12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I don't even know if this counts as fan fiction, but I was thinking about Dick as I wrote it, so maybe?  It could be about someone else too.<br/>As for the setting and why they're in this situation?  I'm thinking that if this is Dick then Bruce is dead.  And it's postapocaliptic.  How and why, I have no idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vociferate

He felt caught. Trapped in the intense emotion that consumed him. Here he was surrounded, but he felt… not alone, his head felt to crowded for that, in this moment he wanted, in a way, nothing more than to BE alone, but certainly… alienated.

But he couldn’t let on. He had to be the strong one. Even though they had all hurt him in their own little ways. But times were tough, after all. Everyone needed someone to lash out at. They were starving and broken and hurting, and their world and crumbled round them. They deserved that much, to be allowed to lash out. And if they were to lash out they would need someone safe to lash out on, right? And so he would be that safe person. He had failed them all before, after all. He was supposed to guide them take care of them, and he had failed so, so miserably.

So he let them hurt him. And he stayed quiet. And he tried not to let on. Tried not to show them how he was hurting, how sometimes he wanted nothing more than to SCREAM.

And the nice thing was, it worked. He could see how his constant calm, his silence, his all round strength (Even when he hardly been able to scavenge up anything to eat and it was work just standing up in the morning) kept them grounded, gave them one safe thing.

He was the one thing that hadn’t changed. He was their pillar, and they needed a pillar. They needed it so much. So he kept silent when they hurt him.

But that didn’t stop his pain. Didn’t stop him from wanting all the ugliness to just stop. Didn’t stop him from wanting to scream at them all to just SHUT UP! Because he was trying. He really was trying. He was trying to feed them, trying to give them some thing that at least slightly resembled shelter, trying to be there for them, so could they stop complaining? He KNEW that they were hungry, he KNEW that they were cold, he KNEW that they felt like it all wasn’t fair. He knew that because he already knew that he was failing, had failed, would fail again. He didn’t need them to tell him that.

Except he couldn’t let on. Because that would be the greatest failure of all. Because he couldn’t afford to fail like that. So he didn’t cry, he didn’t even talk much.

They hated that, they hated that he wouldn’t answer them, not with more than a sentence, and a short one at that. They thought he was ignoring them, that he didn’t care. That hurt more than anything. The very IDEA that he wouldn’t care, when they were the only thing left he had the energy to care about.

But he couldn’t talk. His insides were in turmoil, boiling and swirling and HURTING, and with something much, much worse than hunger pangs. And he knew that he could keep it out of his face, he could fake even a smile, he could be patient, he could put up with it all. But he couldn’t keep it out of his voice. He wasn’t an actor like that, never had been. he could never keep himself from vociferating.


End file.
